


Be It Ever So Humble

by out_there



Category: Firefly
Genre: F/M, Gen, Home, Minor Hoban "Wash" Washburne/Zoë Washburne, Possibly Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-29 17:27:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18782809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/out_there/pseuds/out_there
Summary: "Can't be homesick when you're home," Kaylee says.The captain doesn't say anything, but from the proud look on his face, he agrees. "Maybe don't tell your Daddy that."





	Be It Ever So Humble

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thestarsapart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thestarsapart/gifts).



> Thanks to in-the-bottle and thesmallhobbit for betaing.
> 
> Time wise, this is set between the series and the movie.

_Every day is a journey, and the journey itself is home._ \- Matsuo Basho

***

Til Kaylee was nineteen, home was a small cabin and two big barns and dusty fields all around them. It was irrigation pumps to grow crops over the long summers and water tanks for the wet winters. Watching lines of tiny green seedlings stretch through the ground in spring and autumn, and running through crops higher than her head in summer.

Her Daddy would fix what needed fixing, for anyone who could pay, and let her watch as he slotted bits back together, puzzle pieces finding their homes.

As the years went on, it became Kaylee sitting in the barn surrounded by tools and bits of motors. She'd carefully grease the bits that should move, sanding the worn edges, and put it back together the way it should be.

She still spends quiet days pulling things apart and putting them back together, black grease on her hands and the smell of metal clinging to her fingers. But there's no winter damp in the air, no heavy rain falling on the tin roof. She won't look up and find her Daddy putting down a tray of soup and fresh baked bread, glancing knowingly at the pieces scattered around her.

Here, she looks up and finds River walking over to her, bare feet soundless and too-large sweater falling off her shoulder. "Do they all work?" River asks, frowning at the gears and screws scattered across the floor.

"Not like this," Kaylee replies, grinning. "But they will. I'll put 'em all back."

"Cogs can't turn alone," River says, bending at the waist to peer closely at the dirty pieces, the edges dark with dirt and grunge. She pokes a finger at one but doesn't actually touch it.

"True."

River turns her head, her dark hair falling to the floor. She looks hopeful. "Can't play tag alone, either."

"When this is back together," Kaylee promises. "After lunch, unless you want to help?"

"Have to wait," River says quickly, standing up. "Cogs and flowers. Doesn't work without time."

It's no stranger than half the things River says. "After lunch," Kaylee agrees and River nods.

***

Kaylee's Daddy was a quiet man, a man of long silences and slow nods, a man who stopped to think before he gave an opinion. He used to say, "Yelling never made the day shorter or the work quicker," and then he'd go back to quietly walking the fields, steering the motorised hoe into steady, straight lines.

If anyone ever told the captain that, the captain wasn't listening.

"Kaylee!" The captain's voice hollers through the speakers, echoing down the metal hallways. "We need that engine!"

Stretched over the rotary, spanner on the last stubborn bolt, Kaylee kicks her left foot behind her to hit the comm button. "Working on it, Captain."

"Work quicker," Mal yells back.

Kaylee pulls the spanner, feeling the first give, that first shuddering hint of movement. "Just need five--"

"Don't got five."

"--three, then." Kaylee grunts as the bolt comes free. She shoves it between her teeth, biting down on the bolt as she grabs hold of the replacement cuff in her left hand, pulls the old one free with her right and switches them. Pushing the bolt back into place, she tightens it with the spanner. "Good to go, Captain," she says, and the engine starts turning again.

***

Afterwards, once they're safely in the black with no-one following, the captain stops by the engine room. He doesn't hover by the doorway like Simon does, unsure of his place and unwilling to step inside. The captain strides inside and picks up the broken radiator cuff, turning it over in his hands as if he knows what it is.

"We need a new one of these?" he asks. He loves the ship. But he loves her as a whole, as a place, as a dream. He doesn't understand her details. He doesn't know her parts, each of the pieces that work together to make her fly.

That's Kaylee's job. She knows every little hitch and shudder, and she listens when Serenity talks in groans and hisses.

"Be good to have." Kaylee shrugs, thinking of the humidifier relay and the secondary braking system. Worst comes to worst, they can shift the cuffs around and lose comfort rather than the ability to fly. "But it's not urgent. We got one that's not doing much."

Mal nods, turning the cuff over in his hands. He sets it down on the engine housing, lying it upside down. "You did good today," he says, pausing at the door on his way out.

Kaylee smiles and runs a fond hand over the engine housing. "Hear that, girl? We did good."

***

Kaylee grew up in cotton dresses in summer, and itchy woollen shifts for the cold days. Thick work pants for days spent with oily machines, and good solid boots to protect her feet. There are worlds where girls wear nothing but fancy frilly dresses, sitting around looking pretty as flowers. There weren't girls like that where Kaylee grew up, where everyone needed to be useful. Even flowers had their uses, providing seeds for next year or making teas when medicines were too dear and work was too scarce.

Her aunt sent her a pair of ribbons once, shimmering orange like the sky at sunset. Kaylee wore them in her hair every time they went to town, tied into careful bows, smiling bright as a daisy. She'd worn them until they were thin and faded, until the threads at the ends had frayed, until they weren't much more than a little girl's memory of feeling pretty.

She's never told Simon, but here he is, standing in the galley, holding out a small spool of pink ribbon. "I thought you might like the colour," he says. It rests in the soft, pale skin of his palm, a delicate blushing pink.

He looks so nervous. It makes Kaylee smile. "You did?"

"In Wells End, I treated a young girl. It was a simple case of Farringtons Syndrome, easily managed with antibiotics. It should never have--" Simon stops himself, the frustration clear on his face. He won't say things were better near the Core, but it's clear he misses the ease of medical treatment and supplies. He misses the world he grew up in, what used to be home.

Kaylee's never been homesick, never regretted flying off into the black. But maybe it's harder when you grew up somewhere fancy and plentiful. Maybe it's harder when you know you can't go back and visit.

Simon gives a short shake of his head, and forces a smile that's tight at the edges. "It wasn't hard to treat, even with our basic supplies. Her family insisted on payment. They had a small shop and I thought, I thought you'd like the colour."

She does. It matches the palest pink ruffle of the dress hanging on the wall in her bunk. Like the pale pink pansies that use to grow wild in spring, that Kaylee used to keep in vases all around the house. "I do. Thank you."

"You're welcome," Simon says formally, nodding his head and pressing the ribbon into Kaylee's hand. His fingers brush her palm, but Kaylee's too slow to catch his hand, to squeeze it or hold it. To pull him closer and kiss him on the cheek in thanks. He's already stepping back, eyes on his shined shoes, shoulders and spine straight.

She loves the dress hanging in her bunk. She loves its pointless ruffles, how soft and smooth the material feels between her fingers, and how wonderful it felt to wear it. It's the prettiest thing she's ever owned, but Simon with his dark eyelashes and graceful jawline, his dark eyes and sweet smile, he's the prettiest thing Kaylee's ever seen.

He's pretty and clever and brave. Kaylee would make him hers in a heartbeat, if she knew how. But the ribbon in her hand is Simon all over: kind and thoughtful and maybe nothing more than friendliness. He likes her and they talk and he'll smile, and then he gets all formal and pulls back, and Kaylee doesn't know where she stands. Maybe he cares for her like one of the crew or a friendly face far from home. Maybe he thinks of her as his little sister's playmate and nothing more. Kaylee hopes he feels that same flutter in his belly, that spark when their fingers touch, that headrush and skin-hunger, but he never gives any sign of that.

"You can't make someone else feel the same way you do," her Daddy used to say. "No matter how much you want it."

***

Kaylee wakes up in the engine room, stretches and decides to head down to her bunk. It's black outside as always, so it's the low lights in the galley that tell Kaylee it's night time. Serenity is almost silent in the dark, with only the quiet reassuring hum of the engines. Kaylee runs a hand along the cold metal of the railing, letting her fingers drag as she walks.

Closer to the bridge, there's faint music. Slow, sweet guitars echo down the hallway. Kaylee creeps closer, pausing at the steps to watch Wash and Zoe shuffle in slow dance. Zoe isn't one for dancing and balls, doesn't care for the precise moves that Inara and River know by heart, but her hands are loose around Wash's shoulders and she's smiling.

Kaylee watches for a moment, thinking of the turning of the engine, the perfect back and forth of everything moving as it should. Like the way Wash and Zoe talk, back and forth all day, just to make the other smile. Like the hand Zoe will rest on Wash's shoulder, comforting and protective all at once.

It's how people should work together, Kaylee thinks, wistful and yearning. But people aren't machines: you can't push them together and make them fit. People are more like crops. They take time to grow, and you can't rush them if you want something healthy and strong.

***

"Here," the captain says, setting a new radiator cuff down on the engine housing. It's still upside down. "Got you a new one."

It's not an expensive part or a rare one, but Kaylee's still touched that he remembered. And remembered what it looked like. "Thanks, Captain."

"We've got a job on Paquin," Mal says, looking around the engine room. "You could visit home if you want."

"Shiny." Kaylee scrambles to her feet, grinning at the idea of seeing her Daddy. They haven't been past this way in over a year. "Can we afford the extra days?"

"We'll make it work. Don't want you getting homesick," Mal says, lightly teasing. "Serenity wouldn't fly without you."

She would. She might not fly as well, someone else might not look after her as carefully as Kaylee, but she'd still fly. "No chance of that."

"No?"

"Can't be homesick when you're home."

The captain doesn't say anything, but from the proud look on his face, he agrees. "Maybe don't tell your Daddy that," he says, like it's a secret between them.

***

"Don't see why we had to set down here," Jayne grumbles but Kaylee doesn't pay him any mind. He's just annoyed the captain wouldn't let him take the shuttle into town. ("Don't see why not," he'd argued and Mal had rolled his eyes and said, "You'll be too drunk to fly it back.")

Kaylee would feel bad for him, but the captain agreed to drop her home and then fly the rest of the crew to town for the night. Jayne's only grumbling for the sake of it. An hour less in the whorehouse won't make any difference.

"Kaylee could have taken the shuttle," he says again, stomping his boots in the dirt as Mal ignores him.

"Then we wouldn't get to see where Kaylee came from," Zoe says.

"I've always pictured somewhere full of sunshine and rainbows," Wash replies. "Possibly fountains of honey."

Jayne shoots him a narrow-eyed glare. "Honey don't grow in fountains."

"Really?" Wash says sarcastically, but Zoe gives him a quelling look before he says anything else.

After nothing but space for a week, everyone's glad to stand in fresh air for a moment. A little tired of each other's company, but grateful for an excuse to be off the ship.

Even Simon's come out to look, and Kaylee wonders what he sees. She sees winters and summers, days in the barns and hours spent in the fields. It's love and childhood and family to her, but through his eyes it might be nothing more than rusty roofs and old barns needing paint, dirt around the doorway and flat land stretching out to a dull, flat horizon.

"Home, sweet home," she says, while he blinks and watches everything around him coolly.

"It's quite..." Simon pauses cautiously. "...rustic."

She's not sure she wants to ask, but it's _jia_ , her home. She couldn't be ashamed of it if she tried. "Yeah?"

"Not what I'd imagined." Simon looks around again, gaze pausing on the brown fields full of tiny green seedlings. "You always seemed so comfortable on the ship. I thought you must have grown up somewhere very industrial, somewhere full of metal and engines."

"We've got engines. Farming needs machinery. And generators. Always something to be fixed."

"I suppose so," Simon says, dark brows drawn as if he's never considered it before. Then he says, "Oh," and crouches down to touch an early pansy, the pale pink petals barely opened.

"We get them every year," Kaylee says. "They grow wild around here."

"We used to have them in the garden. Purple, yellow and red." He touches it lightly, like he doesn't want to hurt it. So softly that his fingertips barely graze the petals. "I got in trouble for picking them as a child."

"You got in trouble? For picking flowers?"

"Mother grew hothouse flowers for inside. They were bred to last longer indoors," Simon says, standing up. He rests his hands behind his back. "I never had the eye for decorating that my mother did. Mother said they were too unstructured to work inside, but I thought the pansies were cheerful and pretty."

On a whim, Kaylee ducks down and picks the flower, and gives it to him. "There'll be plenty more."

He blinks but he takes it, holding it between two careful fingers.

"You could stay, if you like," Kaylee offers. "It ain't fancy, but we've got beds."

"I wouldn't want to intrude," Simon says, but the look on his face say something else. Says that he hasn't been home in a long time, and even someone else's home might be nice. Maybe says something about pretty gifts from someone you like, about wanting and hoping.

"You're not intruding. I'm inviting. You and River," Kaylee says because she knows he won't leave River behind.

Simon glances down and straightens his shoulders, pulls back in that terribly polite way of his. "Thank you for the invitation, but I think River would be more settled on the ship."

He could ask someone else to stay with her but Simon doesn't like doing that overnight. Not since Shepherd Book woke up to find her screaming and running from invisible monsters last time they were planetside.

Kaylee wishes it were different, but she understands. She likes how deeply Simon cares, and this is part of it. "Tell River I'll bring her back some fresh bread."

Simon's smile is a small thing, relieved and little apologetic. "She'd like that. Have a good night."

"You too." Kaylee nearly steps forward to give him a hug, but that might be strange. Too much or too familiar. Simon seems frozen for a moment as well, standing there staring at her and then he gives a little nod, and walks back to the ship with the flower cradled in his hand.

***

They walk around, and her Daddy shows her what's changed. There are repairs to the barn and a new generator, and a pear tree that's shot up tall since the last time she was here. There's a corn crop just gone in, and potatoes from late winter, and one of the local boys helping out when they need extra hands. The wind picks up, dry and dusty, so they go into the kitchen to knead dough in easy silence. While the bread rises, they chop up fresh vegetables and put rabbit stew on to cook, and it's not until they sit down for supper that Kaylee's Daddy says, "Tell me about your young feller, the one too scared to meet me."

"He's not scared," Kaylee says, "and he's not mine." But she tells him anyway. She tells him all the things she likes about Simon, and the things that drive her crazy, and the things that make her wonder if anything will ever happen.

"Got to get the timing right," Daddy says, like they're a pair of stuck gears, a couple cogs that would work if they could only line up right. Her Daddy is still the wisest man she's ever met.

Kaylee hugs him and kisses his cheek. "I know, Daddy."

**Author's Note:**

> Jia [家] - Home
> 
> If anyone was trying to picture those pink pansies, Iwas thinking of these:  
> http://premiergrowersinc.com/product/pansy-delta-pink-shades/


End file.
